Page 50 of Always Him

Suddenly, the shower curtain is ripped open and Finn is standing on the other side, his chest heaving, his eyes wild.

When they land on the lump on my head and the purple bruise blooming across my side, his countenance darkens.

“What happened?”

“Nothing. It’s fine,” I reply, turning to face forward. I haven’t even washed yet. I just sat here like a sad, pathetic sack.

I reach for the soap and quickly run it over my body and hair, not even bothering with shampoo. When the suds have finally run down the drain, Finn hands me my towel, watching me like a hawk as I dry off.

Without asking, he hefts me into his arms and carries me into the kitchen.

I’m completely naked as he sets me on the counter and digs out a bag of lima beans from the freezer. That’s all that vegetable is good for. Disgusting pieces of shit.

He hands the bag to me and when he notices me shivering, he strides to the couch and grabs a throw blanket, placing it over my shoulders.

“What happened?” he asks again, this time more sternly, as I press the frozen beans to my head.

A sigh escapes me. “I fell.”

“When?” he asks.

“Getting into the shower.”

He pulls the blanket away, eyeing my side and then his eyes fly to mine.

“Why did you leave the party?”

“I wanted to give you space…”

“I don’t want space,” he says, his hands flexing into fists at my side.

“You looked like you wanted space. You were happy with him.”

Finn’s eyes flutter closed, his chest heaving.

“Archer is handsome,” I add. “And whole.”

Finn’s eyes snap up to mine, locking me in place.

“What did you just say?” he growls.

“He’s handsome and…whole. Not disabled.”

Finn takes a step forward, pushing between my thighs.

My breath stutters from my throat, my hand drops from my forehead, and the blanket from my shoulders flutters onto the counter.

“Do you think I care about that?” he asks lowly, tilting my chin up.

I swallow and manage a small shrug.

“Maybe.”

His hand grabs onto the thigh of my residual limb and he slides it down, over the knee, until he’s right there, pressing against the end, cradling it.

“It changes nothing,” he whispers, his forehead dropping to mine. “It changesnothing.”

My hands fly up to grasp his face and I crash my lips to his, slanting my mouth over his, pushing my tongue into his mouth.

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